When people would call the number printed on the card, they would hear a greeting and an invitation to choose

one of three languages:: Spanish, English, and Chinese.

Once they chose their language of preference, they would immediately hear a recording of the below text (which I wrote).

After hearing the recording they were invited to leave a voicemail.

​

I’m the woman roaming your streets, unknown to you.

I sit in bars and parlors on the avenue. I breathe your fumes.

I am shaken by trains and awoken around the clock,

to see myself uncovered, awash in your dust and soot.

You robbed me of my nights!

 

I’m your sister, your daughter, your next door neighbor,

I’m a WOMAN.

I have a mother who birthed me, I’ve got a name.

I once had a home…

 

I have a voice but words are lost like burble down my throat.

I hear the scream, her scream, my screams, I hear us scream.

But when the silence comes to me, it dawns on me and whispers in my ear: You’re not his chica…

 

You made me dance, my heels were cracking.

You took me here in cars and trucks, like packaged meat.

I was your money, you’re the boss, I was the body which you squeezed and grabbed.

I put on makeup and it got smeared. You hung me on a hook.

 

I am not the poster, I am not the curves. I’m not the number, not the blond.

I’m not the bikini, not the pose. You didn’t have me. Never will.

You robbed me of my face!

 

I mourn my losses and my dreams. I’m dead and I can’t trust,

you robbed me of my youth.

 

I’m mad and angry! can’t protest ‘cause I was taken and transported, I was forced and kicked around.

I was hidden, I was beaten, to became…your Chica.

​

Here in Queens, on Roosevelt Avenue, I drag myself, a mere shadow of me

And yet…

 

I remember the blue sky stretching wide above, my kitten snuggled in my arms,

hands forming sandcastles, the excitement of cool water on the beach, giggling with friends,

my parents and me they say I was a gem…

my hopes, my dreams, I laughed, I was alive, I was a miracle.

 

And now…

 

I want it back, the stolen me! I want my name,

the stolen passport.

I want my money and my bed, for me, only.

 

I want my rights, I want my nights!

I want one right. I want my pillow.

I want my keys, so I can open

a door, that I can close,

and let the silence in again

to dawn on me

and whisper in my ear:

You are a miracle,

You’re a gem!